Slate's Dear Prudence Gets a Letter About Notifying Friends and Family of a Terminal Diagnosis

Dear Prudence: Should I tell people I might be dying, or spare everyone the goodbye?:

A disease I’ve been dealing with for several years has taken a turn for the worse. I don’t have a terminal diagnosis yet but, depending upon upcoming tests and possible treatment, I could have a week, a month, six months. My physician brought up palliative care for the first time. Last winter one of my long-time friends died; I was terribly hurt that his wife failed to inform me he was even sick—I heard it through the grapevine. Upon consideration, I decided perhaps my friend had chosen to spare me (and himself) my despair and a tearful good-bye. Another friend told me when her husband was in hospice, his good friend Tom wept so much through a difficult final visit that afterward the dying man weakly said to his wife, “No more Tom.” Do I inform my long-time friends, particularly those whom I’ve loved deeply but who live far away, that I have one foot in the grave? If not, do I write a letter to each of them to be mailed at my death, explaining my decision and how much their friendship meant to me? 

I agree with Prudence that the letter-writer should trust his or her instincts and was glad to see she suggested resources like Lotsa Helping Hands.

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Nora Ephron’s Final Act - The New York Times

Nora Ephron’s Final Act - The New York Times:



Nora Ephron's son wrote about her illness and last days, with this quote from her about facing death:



"The realization that I may have only a few good years remaining has hit me with real force, and I have done a lot of thinking as a result. I would like to have come up with something profound, but I haven’t. I try to figure out what I really want to do every day, I try to say to myself, If this is one of the last days of my life, am I doing exactly what I want to be doing? I am low. My idea of a perfect day is a frozen custard from Shake Shack and a walk in the park. (Followed by a Lactaid).”"



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Imagine This

by Freya Manfred

When you're young, and in good health,

you can imagine living in New York City,

or Nepal, or in a tree beyond the moon,

and who knows who you'll marry: a millionaire,

a monkey, a sea captain, a clown.

But the best imaginers are the old and wounded,

who swim through ever narrowing choices,

dedicating their hearts to peace, a stray cat,

a bowl of homemade vegetable soup,

or red Mountain Ash berries in the snow.

Imagine this: only one leg and lucky to have it,

a jig-jagged jaunt with a cane along the shore,

leaning on a walker to get from grocery to car,

smoothing down the sidewalk on a magic moving chair,

teaching every child you meet the true story

of this sad, sweet, tragic, Fourth of July world.

What Doctors Forget to Ask: What Do You Want from Your Care?

Mitch Kaminski writes in The Washington Post about the question doctors should always ask:

Then I remember a visiting palliative-care physician’s words about caring for the fragile elderly: “We forget to ask patients what they want from their care. What are their goals?” I pause, then look this frail, dignified man in the eye. “What are your goals for your care?” I ask. “How can I help you?” ... A wonderful geriatric nurse practitioner’s words come to mind: “Our goal for younger people is to help them live long and healthy lives; our goal for older patients should be to maximize their function.”

How to Write Your Own Eulogy

How to Write Your Own Eulogy

This beautiful essay by Rabbi Evan Moffic is inspired by his own experiences in delivering eulogies and comforting mourners. "Nothing can totally prepare you for the task of comforting mourners and making sense of death. And nothing better teaches us what makes for a meaningful and well-lived life." He quotes "a saying of the Jewish sages: 'The Righteous, even when they die, are called living.' In other words, the righteous live on in the inspiration and loved ones they leave behind."

Author Samuel G. Freedman Is Creating a Project to Preserve the Work of his Friend Jeff Schmalz, a Trailblazing Reporter Who Covered AIDS – Tablet Magazine

Author Samuel G. Freedman Is Creating a Project to Preserve the Work of his Jeff Schmalz, a Trailblazing Reporter Who Covered AIDS – Tablet Magazine

In 1990, Schmalz stood up at his desk, then collapsed. Though up until that moment he’d felt fine, he learned that he had a brain infection caused by AIDS. And he was outed. Not only did he have to process the fact that he had the disease, but also symptoms that often killed people within four months. Schmalz nonetheless went back to work. He covered the 1992 presidential campaign. Then he asked if he could cover AIDS. It was an unheard-of thing: A reporter creating his own beat and convincing his bosses to let him cover it despite his having the disease himself. But Schmalz had proved himself a brilliant reporter, and top brass trusted his ability to do his job. He spent the last 18 months of his life doing groundbreaking reporting (and beautiful writing) on the epidemic, while helping to change the culture of the newsroom. He died in 1993, at 39.

Prayer: We Remember Them by Sylvan Kamens & Rabbi Jack Riemer

At the rising sun and at its going down; We remember them.
At the blowing of the wind and in the chill of winter; We remember them.
At the opening of the buds and in the rebirth of spring; We remember them.
At the blueness of the skies and in the warmth of summer; We remember them.
At the rustling of the leaves and in the beauty of the autumn; We remember them.
At the beginning of the year and when it ends; We remember them.
As long as we live, they too will live, for they are now a part of us as We remember them.

When we are weary and in need of strength; We remember them.
When we are lost and sick at heart; We remember them.
When we have decisions that are difficult to make; We remember them.
When we have joy we crave to share; We remember them.
When we have achievements that are based on theirs; We remember them.
For as long as we live, they too will live, for they are now a part of us as, We remember them.